Weekly Post: Before the Lights Go Out

"You remember the promise we made? Back. Before." It's more of an order than a question, as he says it.

His voice has grown gruff and harsh since that day. That day that had been so absolutely beautiful and gorgeous and perfect that it had taken all this time of pain and suffering the balance it out. To make things fair.

"Yeah. I remember." But its less than true. I can remember bits and pieces of conversation. "And a deals a deal."

We, neither of us, say anything. We just sit there staring out at the bluest sky we've seen in a very long time. So much smoke and dust and the burning at the back of your throat that can only come from the food provided here in the System.

"Almost noon." I say looking at the wedge of concrete to the side. "You sure they'll be here?"

"Don't be stupid. The intel's good." He looks down before saying, "Did you say good bye to them before you left?"

"No. I couldn't." I want to pound my fist into the concrete until concentric cracks spread from my bleeding hands like permanent spiderwebs. Instead I cough, like there's something in my throat, to hide the sound that just tried to escape.

"I couldn't either." He stares, fixated at twisted metal structure in the distance, debris and bits of bark scattered around it. "Got anything on ya?"

"Just some grape juice." I reluctantly hold up the small, square container with the straw in it.

He just takes a long, noisy slurp from it. Then hands it back to me, the body twisted and contorted like the structure in the distance. His eyes still fixed on it. I know what he's thinking. He's thinking if we could just get there. Beyond it's garbled shadow we would be free. Free from the System and the Enforcers and the never ending cycle.

Then the chime sounds.

There are others in the room with us, but they are not like us. They huddle and whine and whimper as the lights begin to dim. They know what's coming. We all do. But the two of us, hunched up here with only the invisible barrier between us and the outside world, we are left a small pool of cold orange light. Soon the light barrier will come down too and then there will be nothing but darkness.

We do not hear them approach, silent like the predators they are. We are nothing but prey to them. No not even that. We are nothing but numbers to them. These strange things with their long reaching arms and their rows of teeth and the sickly, sweet singing that escape from their drawn lips. We do not hear them until it is too late.

"Rocky-a-bye baby, on the tree top."

"Run!" He yells as he pushed my shocked form over.

"When the wind blows the cradle will rock."

"They're after us! Hurry!" But he knows just as well as I do that there is no escape.

"When the bow breaks the cradle will fall."

And then the long arms have him and lift him up into the darkness above.

"No!" But now its not him I'm worried about.

"And down will come baby..." One has him, the other comes towards me. "Cradle and all."